


London-Frankfurt-Madrid

by itsaquinnquinnsituation



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:52:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsaquinnquinnsituation/pseuds/itsaquinnquinnsituation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a work of fiction and none of the characters, real or fictional are mine. I am not making money of my work, this is for entertainment purposes only.</p><p>This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed, not judged.</p><p>I do not mean to offend anyone, least of all Dan Brown, whose works I love and admire very much.</p></blockquote>





	London-Frankfurt-Madrid

“Excuse me.”

“Hmm?” – The lad lifts his gaze from a fat large-print bestseller in his hands.

“That’s my seat there. I’m just gonna… uh, let me just throw my backpack there… cause I gotta…”

“Oh yeah, yeah.” – The lad doesn’t just sit back though, he takes the backpack off Louis’ hands and places it gingerly on the seat next to the window, - “you need help there?”

“Oh I think I got it.” – Louis grunts as he lifts the small carry on into the overhead compartment. His t-shirt lifts up and he is faintly aware of the lad’s stare at his bare stomach which ends up being just about his eye level. 

“Where are you going?” – Louis asks eventually, having nested into his seat and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

“Same place as you” – the lad drawls out, amused, - “this plane is flying to Frankfurt, did you know?”

“Right” – Louis chuckles, - “I mean after that. What’s your final destination?”

“Final Destination? Did you really have to remind me about it before we take off?” – The lad frowns.

“What?” – Louis wonders with an eye-brow raised, - “… oh my God, not the movie! Good grief!” – He laughs lightly, - “fine, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Madrid” – the lad offers good-naturedly. – “From Frankfurt I’m flying to Barcelona, then heading over to Madrid.”

“Right” – Louis nods, - “Well I’m going to London.”

The lad nods. And that’s fine. This is how things happen. They are stuck together for a seven-and-a-half hour flight. For seven and a half hours, they will be sitting next to each other, cramped into neighboring seats on a fairly small Condor plane. For seven and a half hours they are confined to this strictly limited space. Things like that happen all the time. We share buses, places in queue, exchange money at the stores, pass each other on the street. Evanescent or slightly longer moments where we are together – then come apart again.

Louis watches him out of the corner of his eye when the plane takes off – it’s far more interesting than looking out of the window. The lad consumes at least eight pieces of hard candy and sits straight up, big eyes staring at the back of the seat ahead, no blinking whatsoever. 

“I hate the take offs” – he says eventually, voice raspy, - “you mind if I put this up?”

Without waiting for Louis’ answer, he lifts up the armrest and immediately, the sleeve of his jean jacket touches Louis’ arm, clad in thin sweater. 

It’s innocent. These things happen all the time. Why do we usually move away? Why do we apologize having touched someone’s hand accidentally on the bus, grabbing for the pole? Louis’ eyes dart from the chair ahead to the window, sideways, and he does not move a muscle. The lad opens up his book again and his elbow all but rests atop Louis’ arm. 

But Louis does not move. He likes the lad’s cologne, his light-blue jean jacket, his shiny brown hair, swept back in a messy quiff, his lips that part a little as he reads on, unaware, and for seven and a half hours, this is Louis’ world. There’s an assignment that Louis should work on for his job, he is also exhausted and shaky from packing hurriedly the entire morning, from running up to the store to get some travel-size hand sanitizer and a bottle of sleeping pills – he still managed to forget the US-UK power converter, there’s a new Dan Brown book that he just bought for an obscene amount of money at the airport (he doesn’t really like Dan Brown because his stories of saving the world in 24 hours are less than believable and Louis is not a big fan of fiction, but hell, that was the best that the store had on the shelf) and there are all these things he could do with this third-of-a-day, but suddenly there’s severe turbulence and the lad drops his book onto his lap, gasps and grabs for the armrests. Only, as he had earlier put the one between himself and his neighbor up, he ends up digging his long thin fingers into Louis’ wrist. Louis gasps with him and attempts to hold on to the lad’s hand instead but his fingers don’t reach and the lad’s grip is iron so Louis lets it be as it is. 

“I’m… sorry” – The lad exhales finally after the captain apologizes for passing through the less than smooth air-segment. It is only then that Louis notices that the book which had fallen closed into the lad’s lap is the exact same Dan Brown book that he himself had bought not two hours ago. 

“It’s alright.” – Louis says quietly, - “I really don’t mind.”

“I’m scared of flying” – the lad looks at him and his big green eyes are sincere, his cheeks flushed pink unevenly, - “I fly all the time. I’ve flown all over the world, and every time, every single time, I’m scared shitless.”

“It’s alright” – Louis says again and suddenly realizes that he is much smaller in size than his neighbor, - “This will be just like all of your other flights. Nothing will happen.”

“Nothing will happen” – the lad repeats, - “Yeah, nothing will happen. You are right.”

The lad places his arms into his lap and Louis feels uneasy. He doesn’t know the lad’s name, he doesn’t know his story, but the arch-shaped imprints of his nails are decorating Louis’ thin pale wrist. By the end of seven and a half hours, they will be certainly gone, though.

It is only when the stewardesses start serving dinner that the lad cheers up again. He groans as he puts his tray down:

“I hate plane food.”

“It’s pretty nasty” – Louis agrees.

“I hate it, yet I eat it every time. I don’t know” – the lad looks up, musing, - “You know, I’ve never thought about it… I really hate it, yet I never think of taking some granola bars or you know, some snacks with me on the plane” – he smiles at Louis sheepishly, - “… sorry.”

“It’s alright” – Louis smiles back. He knows the answer.

He knows we rarely take action to stop the normal flow of the events. He knows what it’s like to hate your job. He knows that your mouth only hurts from fake smiles, never the real ones. He knows how to hug people without touching them. He knows a lot of things that he’d rather not know. 

The lad makes such a face upon tasting the pasta in the plastic container that Louis laughs for a good minute and the little girl from across the aisle looks at him, chewing with her mouth open. 

“Why do you have to travel so much for your job?” – Louis asks as the lad uses a toothpick to draw a smiley face in the tiny container of mashed potatoes.

“Well, I’m a photographer” – the lad responds. – “I do both photo and video for various clients. You may know some of them… you’ll certainly know National Geographic.”

“Whoooah” – Louis leans back, - “That is quite impressive.”

“Yeah” – the lad rubs his neck, - “Maybe. But I’m sick of … well, not only flying but just not having a permanent home. My whole life is in that single suitcase I checked in as free baggage. Uhm… so… I don’t know. I got an offer at a small local television station in Madrid. Pretty random I guess.”

“Random?”

“I’ve never exactly lived in Spain. I don’t really speak Spanish. I guess it doesn’t matter so much for the job, as my colleagues, apparently, speak at least some English. But I mean… you know?”

Louis mulls it over in his mind. He knows how to live according to the plan. How to finish school and go to uni. How to finish uni and get a job. How to rent a flat and pay bills on time. How to own a railcard to go visit Edinburgh once a year. He doesn’t know how to live in Spain. Spain is not a factor in his life and not a word in his every day vocabulary. 

“Where will you stay? In Spain I mean?” – he asks, genuinely curious.

“I’m… not sure” – the lad responds, shrugging, - “my boss has hired a flat for me in Madrid. So…”

“Wait” – Louis interrupts, both eye-brows raised, - “You’ve never seen the flat you’ll be living in?”

“No…” – the lad drawls out, - “I didn’t have time. He offered to show it on Skype but I didn’t want to trouble him as he was on vacation in Mallorca. So…”

Louis nods but he doesn’t understand. Before he hires a flat, he checks the price against the market, checks what’s included in the rent, watches the neighbourhood for a couple of weeks for the sign of trouble and makes an effort to scour the neighbours. But hell, he’s been living in the same flat for at least five years. Not because it’s the best place in town, but … well, because he knows it.

It’s a red-eye, so the lights soon go out and Louis’ travel buddy quiets down and huddles in the plane blanket which is way too small for him. Louis looks out the window and is only startled when the lad leans against him, wheezing quietly. In the dim light of the plane Louis examines the lad’s face, clean, innocent, gentle and beautiful. He watches him for at least a few minutes before, unaware of it, slips into sleep himself.

He dreams of silly things, last one being shut in a Tesco freezer and he wakes up whimpering, his eyes dry and half-sealed, tries to look around, remembers where he is and notices that his neighbor is gone, blanket left in a bunch on the seat. But before Louis is able to move, the green-eyed lad comes back, lifts the blanket and slides in awkwardly into the seat. “Sorry” – the lad whispers softly as he wraps himself in a blanket and presses his side into Louis’. Louis does not know what the lad apologized for but he hopes to God that there are still a few hours left in the flight because he does not remember the last time he felt so good whilst being so cramped in an economy class. He doesn’t want to fall asleep anymore, but he does anyway because his breathing starts matching that of his neighbor who had fallen asleep again, arms crossed on his chest, head bowed down…

When he wakes up, he notices that the window shade has been pulled down and his neighbor is looking at him with an amused sideways smile.

“What?” – Louis sits up immediately and blinks his eyes, - “Did I drool on you?”

“No” – the lad shakes his head, still smiling, - “Did you know that you talk in your sleep?”

“Yeah” – Louis crinkles his nose, - “Did I confess something incriminating?”

“Yup” – the lad nods his head, smile wider than ever, - “Listening to Britney Spears is pretty damn criminal.”

“Oh my God” – Louis rubs his hand over his face, hiding an expression of relief.

“And we are to land pretty soon. But not before we eat some lovely plane breakfast!” – He slams his tray down with such exaggerated enthusiasm that Louis laughs again, covering his mouth with his hand. 

They chat all through breakfast and Louis does not notice how his neck starts hurting from being twisted in one direction for an hour and a half, and the lad, apparently, does not notice that his feet are perched atop his Dan Brown book, forgotten on the floor, but Louis does notice that the lad had rested his elbow on his arm and did not apologize. And Louis likes that. He likes that quite a bit. 

He snaps out of it when his neighbor gets nervous and reaches into his pocket for some jolly ranchers. He offers one to Louis, but Louis declines. He almost prays for turbulence. 

They land nicely and Louis makes no motion to get up. He is barely able to look away from his neighbor who exhales and deflates visibly, offering him an exhausted smile. 

“H-how long do you have to wait?” – Louis asks finally, unable to hold back.

“Uh sorry?”

“For your flight. To Madrid. I mean, to Barcelona?”

“Oh. Two hours.”

So it’s two hours left then, because Louis will be stuck in Frankfurt for six. 

“So… “ – He offers carefully as his neighbor gets up to retrieve his carry-on from overhead, - “we can wait together.”

“Oh” – the lad puts the suitcase down and smiles directly at Louis, - “Yes, sure!”

Two hours. Louis sits in an uncomfortable seat in front of the gate that his neighbor will walk through in two hours to disappear from his life forever. Their paths crossed for just half of a day and are about to separate for good. But this happens all the time, doesn’t it? Just another chance encounter, life is full of them. Louis’ path diverges to London, his companion’s, whose name – Harry – he spied on the tag of the lad’s carry-on, to Madrid. It’s only here, in Frankfurt, where both of them are sitting in a bustling airport lobby, that their life paths are still one and the same. Frankfurt is the last middle point where they are still “they” and not “the one” and “the other.”

 

“Where’s my book?” – Louis snaps out of it when the boarding for the plane to Barcelona is announced and his neighbor begins digging through his carry on, - “Oh no, I think… I must have left it on the plane!” - Harry starts looking around, - “Is there a way I could get it back?”

“I doubt it” – Louis smiles, amused, - “But it’s just a book, you can get another one later…”

“I know!” – Harry frowns, - “But I really wanted to see how it unfolded. I love Dan Brown books. Professor Langdon is there with a girl and they are… well, running around, and you know, in only 24 hours, they fall in love, save the world, everything happens, people's lives change forever and…”

Louis is not listening anymore. It can be like that, really, but only in fiction. In Dan Brown’s mind anything can happen in 24 hours. In real life, you sit together, touching elbows lightly, and then you go to your respective cities. We can admire things that happen in books and in movies. Admiring is not the same as being capable of doing it. Real life is not a fairy tale.

Louis digs into his own carry on and produces a Dan Brown book. He gives it to Harry who examines it with raised eye-brows.

“It’s mine” – Louis explains with an amused sigh to spare Harry the confusion, - “but go ahead and take it. I haven’t started it so, no worries.”

“I” – Harry takes it gingerly and stares at the book in awe, - “I’ll…. Ugh, I’ll send it to you when I’m home? When I get done with it? I mean…” – Harry lowers his gaze, - “We’ll stay in touch, right? Facebook?”

“We’ll stay in touch” – Louis thinks, - “sure. And I’ll take up ballet and get a sex change. Maybe the sky will turn green, too.” 

Aloud, he asks:

“When does your job start?”

“Ugh” – Harry is perplexed, - “not for two weeks. I wanted some time to you know… just… well, rest up a bit ‘cause I’m kind of run down.”

“Have you been to Frankfurt?”

“What?”

“Have you been to Frankfurt, Harry, have you seen Germany?” – Louis blurts out, looking at the clock and the passengers starting to align for the entrance to the gate. 

“No… not exactly…. no.”

“Let’s go” – Louis gets up and drags up his neighbor who is still holding his Dan Brown book. 

“Where are we going?” – Harry obediently stands up and pulls on his carry-on.

“To take your suitcase off this plane. Then to fetch mine before it’s loaded on the plane to London. If Frankfurt is the only middle ground, then Frankfurt it is.”

“What?” – Harry rushes after him, struggling to keep the fat carry-on from tipping over. 

“I’ll give you 24 hours” – Louis turns to him squarely and looks him in the eye, - “If you manage to finish the book in this time, you can give it to me and I will fly home to London. But if you can’t, then I’m afraid…”

Harry frowns, only now having caught on. Louis feels his knees start to tremble.

“Please pack it back. I will not need it” – he gives the book back to Louis with the same intense stare. It is only after Louis has stood there for a few seconds with the book still in hand, paralysed, that Harry breaks into a laugh and explains, - “I doubt that I will have any time to read it now. 24 hours is not enough to see Frankfurt, much less to finish a book on top of that.”

Louis exhales and nearly faints from tension but Harry gives his shoulder a squeeze and proceeds to talk with the airport workers who are now processing the last passengers onto the plane. Two of the three workers shake their heads and frown, and it’s only the young African American who throws a quick glance at Louis and starts grinning unabashedly, showing her perfect white teeth. 

Louis exhales and smiles at the same time. He is going to see if Dan Brown is right. Only, he is not planning to read a book. He is planning to write it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction and none of the characters, real or fictional are mine. I am not making money of my work, this is for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> This is my universe and exactly how I see it. Writing should be enjoyed, not judged.
> 
> I do not mean to offend anyone, least of all Dan Brown, whose works I love and admire very much.


End file.
